


The Tame and the Wild

by TQ121



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Bloodplay, Bondage, Collars, Dom/sub, Gags, M/M, Masochism, Puppy Play, Rough Sex, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TQ121/pseuds/TQ121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Stiles tells a dog joke Peter shows him the difference between a dog and a wolf.<br/>Or where Peter is a dominate and Stiles is a masochist, and while there needs don't completely match up they have consensual BDSM relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tame and the Wild

**Author's Note:**

> Warning  
> An important part of any BDSM relationship is the old adage safe sane consensual. In this fic they are generally safe and the acts are read as consensual, but I will point out that since I would argue neither are truly sane here (as Peter most defiantly is not, and Stiles knows this so consenting is not necessarily a sane act for him either) this relationship isn't truly healthy and it is reflected at certain points in the fic.  
> Also Stiles' age in this fic is purposely ambiguous.
> 
> Also I want to say thank you to Al who helped me during the entire writing possess, and who has always been a major pillar of support.

Kneeling in the middle of the room with a dog collar in front of Peter, Stiles probably should be reevaluating his life. Instead he held out his hand for Peter, and opened his mouth. “You are doing this because of the dog joke, aren’t you?” 

Peter buckled a leather mitt onto Stiles’ out stretched hand and smirked. “Yes.”

“Look I’m sorry okay. Sometimes I just start talking and my mouth gets a head of my brain.”

Taking Stiles’ other hand Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Okay every time I start talking my mouth gets a head of me, and I can’t help it if dog jokes are easy.” Stiles shrugged with an almost innocent expression. “Or that they really annoy Derek, and that Derek makes really funny faces when he is annoyed. Plus he hasn’t done me any grievous bodily harm in a while so I can enjoy how funny he looks when his sour face contorts.”

“Stiles.” Peter says patiently as he adjusted the mitt that he placed on Stiles’ other hand.

Closing his mouth as if he just remembered how Stiles looks up at Peter and eloquently answers. “Huh?”

“Dogs don’t talk.” Peter tugged on the brown leather collar around Stiles’ neck before clipping a leash to the collar.

Rising from the crouch he was in Peter wound the lead around his hand a couple of times to get a good grip and tugs just enough to make sure he still has Stiles always wavering attention.

Stiles gave him a disbelieving look from on his knees. “I never agreed to be your dog.”

Peter smiled, and put foot onto Stile’s shoulder and pushed down until Stiles was on all fours. “You knelt there passively in your boxers and a collar while I put mittens on your hands. Are you really going to try to worm your way out of this now?”

“Uh…” Stiles shifted, having a harder time finding his balance with mitted hands.

Lifting his head to face Peter, Stiles felt the fabric of his soft jeans against his cheek. “Well, better late than never right? I mean I could just roll over, but then it would just be boring.”

Peter tugged on the leash again, and threatened. “Do I have to get the gag?”

Eyes widening at the momentary constriction on his throat Stiles’ shook his head as his cheeks became rosy. “Come on I hate the gag. I always end up drooling all over, which is just gross. I mean do you really want me to drool all over your leg like a dog? Cause that is just a little too kinky for me, I mean this is weird enough already, what with you being old enough to be my dad, not exactly normal here.”

Peter rolled his eyes, and pulled a pouch out of his pocket. “Stiles, you are one of the worst liars I have ever met.”

“Oh my god! Now you are talking like my dad, can I safe word on that? Because I think I should. I mean it’s weird enough as is, but that just suggests Oedipus right there, and I like my eyes in my head.”

Ignoring the new string of babble Peter opened the velvet pouch and pulled out a ball gag. Crouching back down closer to Stiles’ level he held the gag up to his mouth. “Stiles, open.”

Backing up to sit on his haunches Stiles pouted. “Come on I’ll be quiet, I swear. I’ll just shut my mouth and we will be good.”

“Stiles we know that doesn’t work very well.” Peter took his hand holding the lead and took a hold of Stiles’ chin. Then with a deep almost growling noise he said. “Now open.”

Petulantly Stiles pursed his lips, and Peter let his nails grow into claws so that they scratched teasingly on Stiles’ skin. Understanding the not so subtle threat Stiles opened his mouth, and Peter slide the gag into it. Then with careful ease Peter buckled it behind Stiles’ head, and then double checked it was on right. Smirking he watched Stiles’ pupils dilate slowly. Running a thumb on Stiles’ lip stretched around the ball gag Peter whispered. “Yeah I can see how much you hate this.”

Grunting around the gag Stiles tried to glare up at Peter, who simply ran his hand through Stiles’ buzzed hair.

“Now we are going to go for a walk, and then teach you a couple of tricks.” Peter explained running his hand down Stiles’ back in a calm petting motion. “No point in having a dog if it is disobedient. Isn’t that right, boy.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but Peter knew better than to pay attention to it. Instead he stood up fully again, and tugged gently at the leash for Stiles to fallow.

Awkwardly at first Stiles followed Peter around the room unused to trying to move on all fours for any length of time. Eventually the repetition allowed him to find a pace he could move easily at until he felt another tug on his collar along with the word, “Heel.”

Stopping he grumbled into the gag, and looked back to see Peter smirking with something that may have been amusement but it was hard to tell with it being Peter. Turning around Stiles crawled back and plopped down on his rear at Peter’s feet.

Fingers brushed into Stiles hair with the calm words, “Good boy.”

The heat filled Stiles’ cheeks and it was beautiful. Peter led Stiles around the room several times. He stopped, started, and called heel when Stiles got too far ahead or behind, until he could almost feel Stiles’ mind slow to something more reasonable then its normal erratic bouncing. It always took something repetitive and methodical to pull Stiles down into a sub space, and unfortunately it almost always required him to be gagged as well. 

Leading Stiles to the middle of the room Peter knelt in front of him. Stiles breathed deeply through his nose, and as he predicted he was drooling around the ball gag. Smiling with amusement Peter pulled a cloth handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped off Stiles’ face. “You are quiet the slobber puppy aren’t you.”

A low whine left Stiles’ throat, and Peter chuckled in return. Stroking his hand down Stiles’ back Peter crooned. “You are going to be a good dog for me. I’m going to teach you to be well behaved, and even preform a trick or two.”

Stiles butted his head against Peter’s chest, and it was even more obvious that Stiles had fallen into a sub space. He always got more physical with gentle head butting like an animal, and that more than the dog jokes inspired this little game. Though trying to curb Stiles’ habit of annoying jokes was a good excuse to try it out.

Rubbing both hands through the soft bristle of Stiles’ hair Peter said. “I never had a dog before. They are normally too afraid of werewolves to even bother, but not you, boy.”

Stiles made an animal like noise behind the gag, and more drool slipped past the gag as he looked up at Peter with a worshipful gaze.

Peter’s gut clenched with something that he wasn’t sure was good or not. Standing he looked down at Stiles whose gaze fallowed him. Face leaving its more open expression it turned more serious and Peter commanded. “Sit.”

For a moment Stiles just stayed still as the command ran threw his hazy head as he obviously tried to figure out. Then for a brief moment he looked like he wouldn’t, but that wasn’t too much of a surprise either. While Peter was comfortable with commanding Stiles never handled obeying very well. When Stiles did, he was more playing by the rules looking to find a loop hole more than anything.

Even in their little games Stiles was generally more interested in being forced to submit than to simply obey, but when Stiles sat back on his rump without the need of some discipline it showed he was at the very least close to the specific head space Peter was looking for.

Of course he didn’t sit the right way, but it was a start.

“No.” Peter made the word sounds like a punishment in its self, and the wolf was defiantly in his voice.

Stiles’ brows crinkled, and Peter could practically smell his brain start to speed up again. It seemed to Peter that Stiles’ mind was either running a mile a minute or simply off, and that was the catch. It was probably why Stiles preferred more physical games because he could simply shut off. Peter always liked seeing if he could get Stiles in a space of equilibrium no matter how short those periods would last.

Still now there was no reason at this moment for Stiles to think. So instead of trying to instruct him Peter manhandled Stiles onto his knees with his covered hands on the ground in front of him. “That is how a dog sits.”

“Because that is what you are, a dog, a domesticated beast, a pet,” Peter smirked and ran his hand through Stiles’ buzzed hair.  
Stiles whined behind his gag, and sucked around it unconsciously trying to cut on the drool that kept coming out the corners of his mouth.

Walking a circle around Stiles Peter ended in front of him and said. “Up.”

With the idea more firmly in Stiles head as to what they were doing Stiles didn’t have to think to get up on all fours letting his head hang forward as he swam in a comfortable haze that only really contained Peter.

Peter’s hand was on Stiles’ head as he cooed. “Good boy, now sit.”

This time Stiles sat right immediately even though sitting back on his haunches meant that he pulled out of the gentle caress of Peter’s fingers.

“Good boy.” Peter’s hands were back already. Rubbing through Stiles’ hair again, and Stiles was given a smile that if he had a tail it would be thumping contently on the floor right now.  
Kneeling so he was closer to Stiles, Peter ran a hand down his flank.

“Lay down.” Peter commanded, and Stiles stretched out his arms in front of himself before setting down. He was still on his knees with his butt settled on his calves, and his upper half laying forward and his folded arms and mitted hands pillowing his head.

Running his hand down Stiles’ spine Peter let his had slip under the band of Stile’s boxers praising more. “Such a good dog, nice and obedient, maybe I should give you a reward.” Peter mused aloud, and then let his human nails scratch up the length of Stile’s spine.

He could hear the way Stile’s heart picked up from its calm thud, and Peter ran his nails harder down Stiles’ side. “You have been so good tonight, such a good little dog.” Peter leaned over Stiles to purr into his ear. “Too bad you’ve been playing with a wolf.”

Digging his nails in deeper Peter clawed Stiles’ back with human nails making the boy arch and moan in his gag. His heart rate picked up more, and Peter could smell the beginnings of arousal building. It was a musky smell that was easily could be fear, anger, or even sex, and he knew as he worked Stiles up the individual scents would intensify and blend into something quite sweet.

“Do you know what happens when a wolf gets a hold of a lone dog?” Peter asked without expecting an answer.

Stiles looked up at Peter staring the wolf in the eye despite the inherent danger of such an act, and Peter just smirked as his teeth sharpened and grew in his mouth. 

“The wolf rips the dog apart.” Peter answered his own question, and then claws dug shallowly into Stile’s side with little pools of blood building around the points.

Stiles whined and thrashed sending the drool on his face flying unable to dig his nails effectively in the ground with the mitts on, and ended up biting down on the gag whimpering.

Burying his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck Peter scented the growing mess of hormones rolling off the boy, and dragged his teeth along his shoulder. 

“Domestication makes the dog soft,” Peter’s claws teased across the boys trembling stomach tickling instead of eviscerating, “an easy kill despite its noble heritage.”

Clawed fingers wrapped around the collar and jerked Stiles’ head back, and his nostrils flair to suck in air. Peter trailed a claw over a stretched and quivering lip. 

“Should I do it?” Peter asked conversationally almost removing the huskiness in his voice. “Should I rip you apart like a dog?”

Stiles made a broken noise behind the gag, and Peter’s claw drew blood across Stiles’ lower lip. “You whine like a dog.”

He then pushed Stiles’ face into the carpet roughly, and Peter climbed on top of Stiles fitting his body over Stiles’ back.

“And you smell like a bitch in heat.” Which was an exaggeration, but Peter enjoyed the hyperbole. Stiles seemed to as well and he pushed his hips back against Peter’s crotch. Each backward thrust made his boxers slip further down showing more pale skin every time.

Peter delighted in the site, and scratched his claws down Stiles’ sides and down the soft skin of the boy’s rump, pulling the boxers the rest of the way down in the process.

Rubbing his way back up Stiles’ body Peter rested his face against the boy’s throat and growled low. If Peter did exactly as he wished to he would pull away leaving Stiles wanting for more: rough punishing touch, claws digging into his sides, and a violent claiming. 

What Peter wanted was vastly different. He wanted to pull away letting the lingering feeling of arousal brew, and to make Stiles obey and play docile for days, weeks, or even months, until he forgot his humanity and broke. Whole Stiles was an attractive individual, but Peter knew Stiles would be gorgeous broken. Even better would be what Peter could mold the boy into afterwards. 

There were infinite options as to what he could make Stiles, and each option was more appealing than the last.

The downside is their current game would end, and Peter wasn’t ready for that. It was still so much fun exploring the ins and outs of Stiles mind, and he even had complete permission in these sessions.

So instead he gave Stiles what he wanted, and wrapped his clawed fingers around Stiles’ neck just under the collar and squeezed as he reached into his jeans to pull his erection out.

“Should I just thrust in now?” He grunted, and slid his cock between Stiles’ butt cheeks. “Rip you apart, and make you beg for me to stop?”

Stiles’ answering whine vibrated along the fingers holding his throat, and he spread his legs wider in answer.

Peter rested his teeth against Stiles’ shoulder not quite biting with the sharp points digging in as a silent threat. His free hand fumbled in his pocket, claws almost clumsy enough to rip them if Peter didn’t have the level of control he did.

The retrieved tube’s top popped off too loudly for a keyed up Peter’s ears, and he covered his own cock with lubricant before running two slick claws over Stiles’ tight opening. “Or should I finger you open like this.”

Stiles’ answered with muffled worried grunts, and twisted in Peter’s grip to stare wide eyed and terrified of those claws pushing into him tearing him apart inside. The sheen of sweat on Stiles’ body smelled sharp with not enough fear and too much arousal to be considered normal, and Peter smiled with too many teeth as he took away his threatening claws. The head of his cock replaced them, and without waiting, warning, or any additional preparation just pushed into Stiles.

It was tight and a touch too dry with the minimal lubrication Peter had used, and Peter didn’t bother trying to push fully inside of Stiles in one go. The boy underneath sobbed with hitched breath behind the gag, and his fists pounded into the ground as he struggled to take Peter inside.

Tears ran down Stiles’ face mingling with the drool Stiles’ couldn’t stop from escaping his lips, and his erection was gone because all he could feel was the pain of being split open bit by bit. The hand around his neck was gone and fang like teeth replaced them gnawing on his neck and shoulder as claws held his hips in place, and he was forced to take more than he thought could over and over again.

As much as he wanted it to stop, it didn’t even come close to how much Stiles wanted more. He wanted to be a human forced to surrendering to a monster’s power. Or was he a dog forced to see how much power he lost by allowing himself to be tamed?

Peter could feel how with every patient thrust Stiles opened up more to him, letting him in and accepting the inevitable, and the boys pain turned into a twisted pleasure. As Stiles pushed back in a focused movement to let him more fully inside, to take as much as was taken, Peter chuckled and thrust in hard in return.

Stiles’ nostrils flared taking in air, and he arched back into Peter reveling in being filled by the older man only to have a monstrous hand shove his face into the carpet. Cheeks flushed with arousal and raw from tears and drool meant the normally soft feeling carpet scratched his face. Pushing back got him nowhere with the inhumanly strong hold keeping his head down while his ass was raised.

Above him Peter took him roughly no longer being held back with tense muscle held tight against his intrusion. Each thrust of his hips an easy almost lazy movement of controlled power, as he surveyed the damage he had caused which was minimal. The worst of it was Stile’s neck where his nibbling would merely left a trail of bruises with human teeth but his wolfish teeth made a bloody mess instead. The marks would stay for a week maybe more depending if they were as bad as they looked, and Peter couldn’t help how pleased he felt at that.

The needle thin scratches down Stiles’ sides and back stung and Peter added more down Stiles’ belly cutting him open and letting blood coat his nails. Stiles shuddered beneath him, and Peter nuzzled and licked at the abused side of Stiles’ throat even as he smeared the pre-ejaculate drooling from Stiles’ cock over his belly and into the tiny cuts.

Becoming more keyed up Stiles pushed and wiggled against Peter trying to feel more and grew increasingly frustrated that he couldn’t just ask to get off. Sensation took over Stiles’ mind and he needed it to hit its peak, but Peter just held him down and took his time savoring the slow build as it coursed through his body. Stiles slowly eased down from his exited writhing mess to something pliant and a little broke, and he sobbed into the gag as he grew limp with exhaustion and need beneath Peter.

“Good boy.” Peter cooed, and ran a hand through Stiles’ cropped hair comfortingly. “Just take what I give you. I’ll give you what you need when I’m ready and no sooner.”

Stiles made a hurt noise into the gag, and Peter just continued to slowly fuck him loosing himself in the feel of the boy made pliant beneath and him feeding Stiles words of twisted endearment. He could hear Stiles heart beat rapidly like prey as he grew closer and closer to a climax Peter wouldn’t give him until he decided it was time.

Pulling off Stiles’ back at some cue only Peter knew he held onto the boy’s hips tightly to hold him as his thrusts became brutally rapid. Stiles obediently lay where he was left grunting with each thrust and his eyes staring off unfocused, and then Peter’s hand was on his cock sharp claws more of an empty threat than any real danger.

Shaking like a leaf Stiles choked on a whine, and then all sensation came crashing down on him suffocating him beneath too much pleasure. Freezing like a terrified animal Stiles came all over Peter’s hand trembling pathetically as he lost himself completely.

Teeth clamped onto the base of Stiles neck, too sharp and too close to the spine for any comfort yet Stiles’ body stayed limp even as his sharp violent orgasm finished coursing through his body.  
All sense of control was gone from Peter, his teeth held Stiles neck, and his hands held Stiles’ hips, and he fucked Stiles like a desperate animal until he whined like a kicked dog. Peter’s hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically as he came with jerking thrusts of his hips into Stiles’ filling him with his come.

Slowly Peter released Stiles’ neck and his teeth melted into a more human configuration that fit his relaxed post orgasmic haze. His hands didn’t leave Stiles’ body but roamed possessively, and he lapped at the bite wounds he inflicted on Stiles in a lazy fashion.

Stiles stayed boneless beneath Peter stiller than he had been all night blissed out on orgasm, and whimpering as Peter grew soft and slid out. Peter chuckled at the desperate sound, and undid the ball gags clasp. Stiles let the gag fall from his mouth, and Peter caught it only to set it to the side. He would clean it and everything later when he felt like moving from his position spooning Stiles from behind.

Still quite Stiles worked the stiffness from his jaw and swallowed. Licking his lips his voice still sounds dry as he holds up a mitted hand and orders lazily. “Hand.”

Rolling his eyes Peter works the mitt off, and briefly kneads Stiles’ hand in a brief massage before repeating the process on the other. Then his hands fall on the collar resting against the bite on Stiles’ neck, and Stiles bats them away. “Leave it.”

Peter nuzzled the back of Stiles’ head in response willing to give the boy what he wanted for now, and Stiles leaned back against Peter as his heart slowed to the point Peter was sure he would fall asleep any moment. Gently Peter started pulling away, but Stiles grabbed his arm in a loose grip. “Sleep now, clean up later.”

“We are on the floor, and you are in the wet spot.” Peter reasoned, only to have Stiles roll around to wrap himself around Peter.

Yawning Stiles shook his head and clung tightly. “I don’t care if you are too old to lie on the floor, I’m not moving and neither are you.”

“Fine,” Peter gave in with another eye roll, and held the boy as he drifted off. Peter knew how to pick his battles and bide his time, and why fight when he could have someone in his arms.


End file.
